


Waiting for Santa

by SerenitySky



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, Fluff, Gen, kid!Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:41:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenitySky/pseuds/SerenitySky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No kid on Christmas Eve can resist the temptation of waiting for the big man in red to come down the chimney, not even the son of two superheroes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting for Santa

"He’s in bed?”  


Tony nodded before crawling into bed next to Steve. “Yep, he’s all tucked in and cuddled up with his Hulk plush; though we seriously need to talk about that and get him an Iron Man stuffie…”  


Steve just chuckled and silenced his husband with a kiss, pulling him close. Tony made a pleased noise and ran a hand down Steve’s back, before sliding it underneath his shirt to feel his warm, bare skin.  


“You know Tony, we should probably get some sleep,” Steve murmured between kisses, “Peter will have us up bright and early to open presents.”  


“Hmm…” Tony leaned back and raised his eyes to the ceiling, poorly feigning pensiveness. “I think I’d rather sacrifice a few hours sleep to enjoy an early Christmas present.”  


Steve laughed softly and reached up to grab the back of Tony’s neck and pull him into a deep kiss. Tony wound his hands in Steve’s gorgeous blond locks and began to gently massage his scalp. Steve was working on pulling Tony’s shirt off when they heard a slight scuffling followed by a _crash_ down the hall.  


Cap sighed and looked at Tony pointedly. “Asleep, huh?”  


“Hey, he looked out of it and I never actually said he was asleep. He’s obviously learning bad habits from you.”  


Steve just rolled his eyes and placed a gentle hand on Tony’s chest when the other man started to get up.  


“I’ll get him.” He pressed a quick kiss to Tony’s nose before climbing over him and venturing out into the hallway.  


He made it to the living room when he found the source of trouble scrambling to pick up cookies off of the floor.  


Steve placed his hands on his hips. “What are you doing there, Peter?”  


The child looked up suddenly, caught by surprise at his father’s appearance. It was then, in the dim light of the Christmas tree and the dying fire, that Steve saw the tears glistening in his little boy’s eyes.  


Concerned, he rushed over and knelt by his son. “What is it? What’s wrong?”  


“I-I was coming out to wait for Santa and I knocked o-over the plate of cookies and milk and they’re broken and now he-he’s not gonna be happy and he’s not gonna come,” Peter rushed out, half-sobbing.  


“Woah, slow down buddy,” Steve placed his hands soothingly on Peter’s shoulders. “Now, how about we get this cleaned up and see if we have some more cookies hidden in the cupboard, hm?”  


Peter gave another sob but nodded. Steve went to the kitchen and pulled out the tin of brightly decorated Christmas cookies they had made earlier and gave them to Peter so he could pick out the best ones. Meanwhile, Steve cleaned the spilled milk and broken sweets while carefully sweeping up the shattered glass.  


When he was finished, Peter had all of the proper cookies picked out and chose a new reindeer plate for them, one that Tony had just rolled his eyes at in the store but that Steve had insisted was adorable and that they couldn’t go without it. Steve poured new milk into a, sturdier, mug and followed Peter, who was carrying the cookies ever-so-carefully, into the living room.  


“There,” Steve said once they had placed everything, “feel better now?”  


Peter nodded vigorously.  


Cap smiled, “All right then, time for bed—”  


“No! I wanna stay up and wait for Santa.”  


“You need to be asleep when he arrives Peter, or else he might not leave any presents.”  


That made Peter stop. “…can we stay up for just a little bit?” He pleaded in a small voice.  


Steve figured that his son would fall asleep not long after calming down, so, believing it to be safe, he nodded and motioned to the couch. Steve settled first, stretching out with his back against the armrest and Peter quickly clambered up on top of him and snuggled close, resting his head on Steve’s chest.  


“Peter,” Steve questioned, all at once curious and knowing that his voice would soothe the boy and cause him to drift off easier, “why were you so upset about tipping over the milk and cookies? It was an accident.”  


“Peter was silent a moment, as if thinking, before answering, “I was afraid Santa would get mad.”  


Steve shook his head and rubbed his hand in small circles on Peter’s back.  


“Santa would know that you didn’t mean it and he would understand.”  


Peter looked up at Steve, searching for reassurance, before nodding solemnly, taking in the vast wisdom of his Papa.  


“Were you that worried about him not coming to our house? I mean, I know your father can get up to tricks sometimes but…”  


Peter laughed quietly with Steve before becoming serious again.  


“I was afraid that you and Daddy might not get your presents because of me…”  


Steve’s heart melted at the boy’s sweetness and concern. He wrapped his arms tight around his son.  


“You’re a good boy Peter, so don’t you worry about that; Santa definitely won’t miss our house.”  


“Really?”  


“Really really.”  


Peter took hold of a fistful of Steve’s shirt and snuggled closer.  


They lay there for a long while, listening for the sound of reindeer on the roof, when Peter spoke in a sleep-filled voice: “Papa?”  


“Hm?”  


“I love you.”  


Steve smiled tenderly and kissed Peter’s head softly.  


“I love you too Peter.”  


It was a while later when Tony emerged from the bedroom, having drifted off while waiting for Steve—he was more tired than he thought. He came out to the living room to find both his son and husband sound asleep on the couch. Tony grinned affectionately and grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair to gently lay over them.  


He took a few of the cookies and munched on them while he recovered presents ‘from Santa’ from his and Steve’s secret hiding spot in the wall behind the painting and placed them under the tree. He also filled up all three of their stockings with already-wrapped goodies and was unable to resist shaking the little box designated for him in an attempt to guess what it contained. He downed most of the milk and double-checked to make sure that everything was ready to go for morning.  


Tony contemplated waking Steve and carrying the sleeping child to bed, but seeing how peaceful they were, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he placed a kiss to the top of each of their heads.  


“Merry Christmas, my boys.”


End file.
